


Drift

by Drogna



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Pacific Rim AU, RipFic, The Drift, Timeship Week 2019
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 21:49:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20316538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drogna/pseuds/Drogna
Summary: Rip and Miranda were an unbeatable team of jaeger pilots up until the day when they met the very first Category IV kaiju. Rip survived, but his jaeger was damaged beyond repair and his wife was killed. He didn't think he'd ever go back, and he certainly didn't expect to meet anyone quite like Gideon.





	Drift

When the Earth collides  
Two hearts, two souls combine  
One love of humankind, in heaven's name  
No time for fear or blame  
Inside, we are the same

\- Drift, RZA

***

Rip never had much memory of the last battle of the Waverider. He did remember Miranda’s last words to him.

“Okay, Rip, here’s what we’re going to do…”

Then she was grabbed from the cockpit, wrenched from their neural link, and the kaiju stared in through the gap. All Rip could think, as it became obvious just how badly this mission had gone, was that he would get the beast to give her back. He would make the kaiju give his wife back. All thoughts of the millions of people relying on him left his head, as did the fact that he had a son back home waiting for him of whom he was now the sole parent.

Miranda had been the one with the plans, but he wasn’t stupid. Even injured, he could fight back. He let his anger and grief give him the strength he needed. The kaiju had skewered his left arm, damaging it too badly for it to be of any use. He transferred his control to the Waverider’s remaining right arm, and blasted the nightmare creature again and again with the pulse cannon.

He re-routed the power on the fly, getting the Waverider’s computer to put everything that they had into the final blast. He learned later that it was enough to kill the kaiju and wipe out his transponder. He had no recollection of that. He had no recollection of dragging the Waverider, limping to the icy shore of a beach near Anchorage. He shouldn’t have been able to do that. A jaeger needed two pilots because the system was too much for one brain to bear alone.

Rip had done it though, and collapsed on the beach. They said he’d damaged his brain in the process which explained the memory loss.

There had been a long stay in hospital, and rehabilitation after that. Jonas was only three and hadn’t really understood what had happened to his mother. Rip knew where his priorities lay, and it wasn’t with the jaeger program. He took Jonas and they moved as far in land as he could manage.

But here was Marshal Joseph West at his door.

“I’m not coming back,” he said, before the man could get a word out. “My son is 8 years old! He lost his mother and I won’t take his father from him too.”

“Rip, the world is ending,” said West. “We need experienced pilots and we don’t have time to train them. There aren’t many pilots as good as you were. I just need fifteen minutes of your time.”

Rip sighed and indicated for Marshal West to enter and follow him into the kitchen. Jonas was currently asleep in his bed in the room down the hall. Their home was small and dark. He hadn’t been able to get much work since he’d left the jaeger program. There weren’t many jobs open to a former jaeger pilot suffering from PTSD and with a young son to look after.

“Coffee?” asked Rip, going to the coffee pot.

“Thank you. My daughter, Iris, has been working on something,” said West, “we want to take the kaiju down at the source.”

“That’s impossible,” said Rip. “Everyone who’s tried has died or the bomb has exploded before it could enter the breach.”

“I know, but I’ve got a top research team working on it. I need a team of jaegers to be ready to take the bomb to the breach and currently we don’t have enough.”

“I saw that the program was being shut down,” said Rip. “Quite frankly I’m not surprised. It was never cost effective to send giant robots up against monsters, even if it worked better than anything else. Firing a brace of nuclear missiles is much simpler and cheaper in such desperate times.”

“But more damaging to our planet’s ecosystem, which is already having problems dealing with the rotting kaiju corpses,” said West.

“But now that the jaegers are losing, it’s becoming a more acceptable equation to calculate,” said Rip. “Just how many do you even have left?”

“As I said, not enough, but more than I have pilots currently,” said West.

“I don’t currently have a partner,” said Rip. “My wife and I were drift compatible, but I doubt you can find another candidate who would work with me. Added to that, I have an injury to my left shoulder and brain damage that may mean I can’t drift ever again. You must be desperate.”

“I am, but I don’t have a big pool to choose from. All the other Mark 3 pilots are dead, and as I said, we have a plan to end this,” said West. “I can pair you with one of the rookies that I have, but I can’t put two rookies out there without any experience between them. Are you really going to sit back and just let the kaiju kill everyone when you could have stopped it? Because if you are then I came to the wrong man.”

Rip finished making the coffee and put it down on the table. He let out a long breath. As much as he hated it, Marshal West was right. He could not sit out of a fight if he could help. That wasn’t who he was and he wasn’t sure that he would have been able to look Jonas in the eye if he didn’t do this.

“I need to drop Jonas off with my mother, and I want her to have any benefits which are due to me if I don’t come back,” said Rip.

“Done,” said West. “I’ll send a helicopter for you tomorrow. Say your goodbyes and be ready to ship out to Central City.”

“You’re running this out of the Shatterdome,” said Rip, with realisation.

“I am. I’ll see you tomorrow, Ranger.”

West downed his coffee in three gulps and with that he was gone. Rip realised that he’d just signed up for a front row seat to the apocalypse, and he had no real desire to die. He also had only a few hours to pack, arrange care for his son with his grandmother and say goodbye. He was under no illusions about how likely it was that he’d ever see him again, but then he was doing this for one reason only and that reason was fast asleep down the hall.

***

Gideon West waited in the rain for the helicopter to land. Beside her stood her adoptive sister, Iris West-Allen. Gideon had been taken in by Marshal Joseph West and his wife Cecile after a kaiju attack on Central City, along with Iris’s future husband Barry. Gideon and Barry had been playing in the park when the evacuation sirens sounded, and they had become separated from their parents. The two children were about to be crushed under foot by a rampaging kaiju when the jaeger pilot had found them.

“Do we really need him?” she asked.

“Gideon,” Iris said, with exasperation.

“I know the Waverider better than anyone,” said Gideon.

“Not better than him,” said Iris. “He and Miranda Coburn were the original pilots. They killed six kaiju. That’s still the record for kaiju killed by a Mark 3.”

The helicopter came into land, and a wiry, bearded man jumped down onto the deck, throwing a kitbag over his shoulder. He was wearing the uniform of a Ranger – a jaeger pilot. It was a slightly older pattern, but no one would complain about what he was wearing if he was as good as he was supposed to be. He wasn’t exactly what she’d expected though.

“He’s not quite the image of a top jaeger pilot,” said Gideon.

“It’s been five years,” said Iris, and then shut her mouth because Rip was close enough that he might hear them.

“Miss West-Allen,” said Rip, as he approached. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You too, Rip,” replied Iris. “This is my sister, Gideon West. She’s been working with me on getting your jaeger ready for battle.”

Rip nodded at her politely, although his eyes lingered for half a second longer than was usual.

“Let’s get you settled in. You’ve got a lot of work to do,” said Iris.

“Indeed. I’m sorry that I’m not what you had hoped for, Miss West,” said Rip, with a wry look. “It has been a while since I was last in a jaeger, but chasing an eight year old boy around has meant that I have needed to keep up my fitness levels.”

Gideon opened her mouth to speak and say something cutting in reply, but then she thought better of it. This man had left behind his son to come back to the jaeger program and no doubt a lot of bad memories were being brought back by his return. Also, they really did need him, and antagonising him now would be unwise. Iris seemed to think it was funny, and was grinning at them.

“How did you know what I said?” she asked, instead.

“Lip reading is a useful skill when you’re deaf in one ear,” said Rip. “Mostly it doesn’t bother me, but I do occasionally find busy and noisy spaces cause me some problems. Don’t worry, it won’t affect my ability to pilot a jaeger. The drift means that I share my partner’s brain and therefore their ability to hear with both ears.”

“I’m sorry. We got off on the wrong foot. Obviously, we’re pleased to have you. Your kill record is quite impressive and I’m sure you’ll get back into things swiftly,” said Gideon.

Rip gave her the smallest of smiles, but it seemed that she’d managed to undo her earlier rudeness.

“We’ll show you the jaeger that you’ll be piloting, give you a quick tour of the base, and then take you to your quarters. Try outs for your co-pilot are tomorrow morning,” said Iris. “I know you’ll want to be rested for that.”

“Yes, of course,” said Rip.

The small group headed into the colossal hangar that housed the jaegers and their pilot teams.

“So just how bad are things?” asked Rip. “Your father wouldn’t tell me how many jaegers he had left to work with, although I suspect the number is in single figures.

Iris nodded. “We have five functioning jaegers,” and she waved in the direction of a sleek, dark metal jaeger. It was several stories high, and easily as tall as the Waverider had been. “Black Canary, piloted by the Lance sisters, Sara and Laurel.”

A blonde and a brunette, dressed in the uniform of the jaeger corps were fighting with staffs between the feet of their robot fighting machine. Rip seemed impressed with their obvious skill, his eyes following their blows for a moment. They briefly stopped their training to wave at Iris and her group, Gideon returned their greeting with a smile.

Iris led them onwards and past an older model. This jaeger wasn’t built for agility like Black Canary but had more strength and standing power. It was decorated with patterns of flames across the chest plates.

“This is Firestorm Alpha. It’s piloted by Jefferson Jackson and Martin Stein, one of our more unusual teams, but also one of the strongest drift compatibilities that we’ve ever seen.”

“Ah, I’ve heard of them. Professor Stein was the designer and Jackson the engineer. They realised their compatibility when the hangar was attacked and they were the only available pilots. They killed Leatherback on their first time in the cockpit,” said Rip.

“Yes, it was pretty unexpected. They fight like cats and dogs when they’re not in the cockpit, but they’re some of the best pilots we’ve ever had,” said Iris.

They turned a corner into the next bay where the third jaeger stood, and two pilots sat on battered armchairs in the middle of their engineering crew’s workshop. One of the men was asleep, and the other, Leonard, was reading a tattered paperback book. This jaeger had a pearlescent sheen to its hull that caught the light and changed from dark blue to a fiery red. Gideon had always thought that it was glaring at her and had never liked its angular structure.

“Ice Dragon. Piloted by Leonard Snart and Mick Rory. They’re both from Central City. Four missions. Four kills, despite a fire breaking out on board on their very first mission and injuring Mick.”

Rip simply nodded in their direction, and Leonard nodded back. Gideon thought that it was slightly grudging.

“And finally, Kendra Saunders and Carter Hall in Striker Hawkwing.”

The jaeger next to Ice Dragon was ornately constructed with the imprint of thousands of feathers across its chassis and hawk-like beak on its conn-pod. Tucked against it’s back was a pair of wings that allowed the jaeger to gain height that other robots couldn’t. It was the only flying jaeger ever to be designed and manufactured. It would be the last of its kind now.

“You said there were five,” said Rip. “I make that four.”

“I left the best until last,” said Iris, and finally she took them into the construction hangar where their last jaeger stood. “The one you’ll be piloting. The newly rebuilt Waverider.”

Rip’s reaction was one of utter shock. He simply stared for a moment, taking in the repaired panels and replaced arm. Gideon didn’t blame him for his surprise. The entire left side had needed to be replaced after their fight against the first Category IV kaiju designated with the appropriate call sign "Savage".

“You rebuilt her? I don’t understand. I thought she was damaged beyond repair,” said Rip.

“There isn’t much that my team can’t do,” said Iris. “Gideon was actually the one who took the lead on it. She did the initial neural calibration tests.”

Gideon felt a little flush of pride. The Waverider was her baby, and although Iris and other engineers had been involved, it had been her project. She had been the one to make sure that they completed on time and that everything was repaired to the highest standard.

Rip seemed to be staring at her for a moment. Then he spoke.

“Thank you for doing such a good job with her,” he said. “If you did the neural calibration then you must have trained as a jaeger pilot.”

“I have,” said Gideon. “I felt it was necessary to understand my work.”

“What’s your simulator score?” he asked, with interest.

“51 missions, 51 kills,” she said, pride creeping into her voice again.

“That’s excellent.”

He sounded impressed, which, Gideon though, he should. There weren’t many trainees in the pool who could match that score.

“Are you trying out tomorrow to be my partner?” Rip asked.

She shook her head, with a glance at Iris. The question was innocent, and he couldn’t know that she wanted to take out the Waverider more than anything.

“No, I’m… I’m too valuable here,” she said.

Rip frowned and he appeared to be disappointed. He opened his mouth to speak, but Iris stopped him.

“Come on,” said Iris, with a hand on Rip’s shoulder. “There’s one more person that you need to meet.”

Rip didn’t seem to want to remove his gaze from Gideon, but finally he followed Iris and they made the ascent to the Shatterdome’s control room. The steel and glass box looked out across the entire hanger and was at roughly the same high as the Waverider’s conn-pod. Gideon could already hear the man that they had come to see from across the room, and indeed smell his cigarette smoke.

“Look, if you want to try a neural link test in two days then you’d better bloody well give me the resources I asked for,” shouted the blond man, pointing a finger at Marshal West. “If you’re not going to then get the hell out of my way so that I can botch something together, but it’ll be half-arsed and our pilots deserve better than that.”

A lit cigarette was clutched in the hand that wasn’t doing the pointing, and he took a drag at the end of the sentence. The item was then stubbed out with violence in a nearby glass ashtray. He pulled at his already half undone tie that hung at the neck of his rather grubby white shirt. He sleeves were rolled up past the elbows, as they usually were when he was working.

“You’re tying my hands, Marshal,” spat the bond.

“John Constantine,” said Rip, and Gideon wasn’t sure whether the tone was resignation or relief.

Constantine turned, and a grin spread across his face. He threw back his head and laughed.

“I said I wouldn’t believe it until I’d seen it,” he said, striding towards Rip and offering his hand for a very enthusiastic shaking. Rip allowed it, although was definitely not as into it as Constantine was.

“I will feel better knowing that you’re in the control room,” said Rip.

“Yeah, well, so far we’re not bloody well ready for the effing test run yet, so a few people around here need to get their fingers out,” he said, scowling at the assembled crowd of control staff in the room.

“Mr Constantine has a few reservations,” said Marshal West, “but we’ll be ready.”

“We’ll bloody have to be, won’t we?” said Constantine, still annoyed.

“I have every faith in you, John,” said Rip. “I know that you were the one who extrapolated my position and sent the rescue helicopters to pick me up. That was quite impressive without a working transponder to guide you.”

Constantine looked a little embarrassed to have that revealed to the group.

“Just doing my job, mate. I wish I’d done it better and then Miranda would still be with us,” he said, looking down.

“There was nothing you could have done,” said Rip. “We all thought that Savage was dead. I should have made sure.”

“Second guessing yourself won’t get us anywhere,” said Marshal West, gently. “That’s in the past and we need to look to the future and protecting the millions of people behind the Pacific Wall.”

Rip looked away, apparently unwilling to meet the Marshal’s eyes. John just nodded, and grabbed his head set from where it hung on the back of his chair.

“I’d best get back to work then,” he said. “And you should eat and get some sleep. I hear it’s try outs tomorrow. Choose wisely, mate. You don’t want just anyone piloting our girl.”

“Agreed,” said Rip. “I’m sure that all the candidates are eminently qualified.”

“They are,” said Marshal West. “Now, we have a lot of work to do.”

Gideon watched Iris escort Rip out of the control room and she met her eyes to let her know that she wanted to stay for a little longer. Iris seemed to know what she was going to do, but apparently wasn’t going to stop her.

“Marshal,” she said. When they were working it was how she always addressed her adoptive father, even though he preferred Joe outside of office hours.

“Yes, Gideon,” he said.

“I want to try out to be the other pilot of the Waverider,” said Gideon.

“We’ve discussed this. The answer is no,” said West.

“I’m not Wally,” said Gideon. “I’m not Barry. You can’t protect me all my life.”

Marshal West rounded on her, anger shimmering in his eyes, or perhaps it was the grief that she knew was there too. Wally and Barry had been killed only six months ago fighting the fastest kaiju ever recorded. His designation had been Raibaru, and the brothers hadn’t known what they were up against until the last minute. They’d killed the kaiju but their jaeger had suffered too much damage. The reactor went critical and the resulting explosion killed both pilots before they could eject.

“No, you are not,” Marshal West said, quietly. “But I care about you as much as I cared about them. Piloting a jaeger is dangerous, and you aren’t ready. You’re also far too useful here as part of the engineering team.”

“But…” she began, but was cut off.

“I’ve given you my answer,” he said. “I’m not going to change my mind because you keep asking.”

Gideon let out a long sigh. She was going to have to get used to being left behind. Unless she could find a way to persuade him that he was wrong. She might have been less determined about this if Rip Hunter had been a different man, but there was an undeniable spark between them. She knew that they were the best team for this. Perhaps the way to get what she wanted was simply to prove that.

***

Rip quickly dispatched the first three candidates. He had trained with the staff as a weapon for many years and there was a reason why he and Miranda had been considered the best at what they did. When he and Miranda had fought on the mat, it had been like ballet with pugilistic tendencies. She knew his moves and he knew hers. After they had drifted together their bond only strengthened. No one had ever beaten the two of them together, but even alone, with rusty skills, his experience trumped all those who had fought him today.

So far not one of the trainees had met his expectations.

Apparently, they had not met Gideon’s expectations either, as she was scowling at him from the side-lines where she was keeping score.

“Just what is the problem?” he asked. “I believe you selected the candidates from the pool. Do they not meet your high standards?”

“Actually, I was wondering when you were going to put some effort into this,” said Gideon.

Marshal West’s eyebrows rose at her blunt tone.

“So far I haven’t needed to,” said Rip.

“I’m supposed to be assessing your skills. I can’t do that if I can’t actually observe them,” said Gideon.

“Then you should give me an opponent that tests them,” Rip replied. “Why don’t you come and give it a go yourself if you think I’m doing something wrong?”

Gideon looked at Marshal West briefly who simply took her clipboard from her. That was enough permission it seemed. She stepped out onto the mat and picked up a staff of her own. Rip couldn’t help but smile.

“I assume you’re going to show me how it’s done?”

“Absolutely,” said Gideon.

Gideon struck out and Rip parried. The fight that followed flowed like music. Melody met harmony and every note had the perfect counterpoint. Rip blocked, so Gideon feinted. Gideon moved in, so Rip stepped back out of range. This was the dance that he knew, but it was also fresh and different. He could judge her steps and see her extensions, but couldn’t predict her tactics.

Finally, he managed to get a corner of his staff under her feet and flip her to the mat, but she took him down with her, and she took him down hard. He landed on his back, his head hitting the mat and he saw stars for a moment. The wind was knocked out of him and it took him a few seconds to regain his composure. He rolled onto his side, and saw his opponent also on her side looking back at him. She seemed concerned.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry,” she said.

“I’m fine,” he replied. She was on his deaf right side, and that made catching every word more difficult.

“I didn’t mean to hit you quite so hard,” she said, pushing herself up on her forearms, and then to her knees.

He slowly got to his feet too, and offered Gideon a hand up. She accepted it and the two of them found themselves face to face, and close enough that Rip could feel Gideon’s breath on his cheek.

“When you’re quite finished…” said Marshal West, with a slight roll of his eyes.

“I think I _am_ indeed finished,” said Rip, stepping back to face the Marshal. “Gideon is going to be my co-pilot. She must have the best score out of any of them.”

“Gideon was not in the pool of candidates,” said Marshal West. “I will make a decision tonight. You’ll report to the Waverider tomorrow for neural interface testing. Gideon, you’re needed to oversee the final tests before that.”

“No,” said Rip. “I want Gideon. We’re clearly drift compatible. I haven’t been in sync with anyone like this since…”

He stopped. Since Miranda. His dark haired, intelligent, able and quick-witted wife. He looked at the woman beside him. Her dark curls, disturbed by the fight, could almost match Miranda’s. Her features weren’t dissimilar, her manner was different but the personality markers were very close. Intelligent, able and quick-witted. He had been so certain that it had to be Gideon, but now he wondered if he’d just been seeing Miranda.

“Ranger Hunter,” said Marshal West. “I said that I will make the decision.”

“No, you’re right, of course, Marshal. I will test the others,” he said. He dipped his head in a traditional bow towards Gideon. “Thank you for your instruction, Miss West, I will endeavour to give the other candidates a better demonstration of my skills.”

Gideon’s face had fallen, but she nodded, and stepped back to the side. She accepted her clipboard back from the Marshal.

“Let’s get this done then,” said Marshal West. “Next candidate.”

Rip readied himself to face the next hopeful. He needed to stop thinking about Gideon. The way that he was feeling about her was not going to help his concentration, especially because he couldn’t get his dead wife’s face out of his mind. Objectively he knew that Gideon looked nothing like her, but there were similarities. The Drift was a difficult thing if not entered without presumptions and inhibitions. He had learned to put those aside with Miranda, because he had trusted her completely; he wasn’t sure that he could do that with anyone else.

He had a lot to think about and very little time to do it in.


End file.
